Cymbeline

DURING
the time of Augustus Cæsar, emperor of
Rome, there reigned n England (which was then
called Britain) a king whose name was Cymbeline.

Cymbeline's first wife died when his three
children (two sons and a daughter) were very
young. Imogen, the eldest of these children, was
brought up in her father's court; but by a strange
chance the two sons of Cymbeline were stolen out
of their nursery, when the eldest was but three
years of age, and the youngest quite an infant;
and Cymbeline could never discover what was become
of them, or by whom they were conveyed away.

Cymbeline was twice married: his second wife
was a wicked, plotting woman, and a cruel
stepmother to Imogen, Cymbeline's daughter by his
first wife.

The queen, though she hated Imogen, yet wished
her to marry a son of her own by a former husband
(she also having been twice married): for by this
means she hoped upon the death of Cymbeline to
place the crown of Britain upon the head of her
son Cloten; for she knew that, if the king's sons
were not found, the princess Imogen must be the
king's heir. But this design was prevented by
Imogen herself, who married without the consent or
even knowledge of her father or the queen.

Posthumus (for that was the name of Imogen's
husband) was the best scholar and most
accomplished gentleman of that age. His father
died fighting in the wars for Cymbeline, and soon
after his birth his mother died also for grief at
the loss of her husband.

Cymbeline, pitying the helpless state of this
orphan, took Posthumus (Cymbeline having given him
that name, because he was born after his father's
death), and educated him in his own court.

Imogen and Posthumus were both taught by the
same masters, and were playfellows from their
infancy; they loved each other tenderly when they
were children, and their affection continuing to
increase with their years, when they grew up they
privately married.

The disappointed queen soon learnt this
secret, for she kept spies constantly in watch
upon the actions of her daughter-in-law, and she
immediately told the king of the marriage of
Imogen with Posthumus.

Nothing could exceed the wrath of Cymbeline,
when he heard that his daughter had been so
forgetful of her high dignity as to marry a
subject. He commanded Posthumus to leave Britain,
and banished him from his native country for ever.

The queen, who pretended to pity Imogen for
the grief she suffered at losing her husband,
offered to procure them a private meeting before
Posthumus set out on his journey to Rome, which
place he had chosen for his residence in his
banishment: this seeming kindness she showed, the
better to succeed in her future designs in regard
to her son Cloten; for she meant to persuade
Imogen, when her husband was gone, that her
marriage was not lawful, being contracted without
the consent of the king.

Imogen and Posthumus took a most affectionate
leave of each other. Imogen gave her husband a
diamond ring, which had been her mother's, and
Posthumus promised never to part with the ring;
and he fastened a bracelet on the arm of his wife,
which he begged she would preserve with great
care, as a token of his love; they then bid each
other farewell, with many vows of everlasting love
and fidelity.

Imogen remained a solitary and dejected lady
in her father's court, and Posthumus arrived at
Rome, the place he had chosen for his banishment.

Posthumus fell into company at Rome with some
gay young men of different nations, who were
talking freely of ladies: each one praising the
ladies of his own country, and his own mistress.
Posthumus, who had ever his own dear lady in his
mind, affirmed that his wife, the fair Imogen, was
the most virtuous, wise, and constant lady in the
world.

One of those gentlemen, whose name was
Iachimo, being offended that a lady of Britain
should be so praised above the Roman ladies, his
country-women, provoked Posthumus by seeming to
doubt the constancy of his so highly-praised wife;
and at length, after much altercation, Posthumus
consented to a proposal of Iachimo's, that he
(Iachimo) should go to Britain, and endeavour to
gain the love of the married Imogen. They then
laid a wager, that if Iachimo did not succeed in
this wicked design, he was to forfeit a large sum
of money; but if he could win Imogen's favour, and
prevail upon her to give him the bracelet which
Posthumus had so earnestly desired she would keep
as a token of his love, then the wager was to
terminate with Posthumus giving to Iachimo the
ring, which was Imogen's love present when she
parted with her husband. Such firm faith had
Posthumus in the fidelity of Imogen, that he
thought he ran no hazard in this trial of her
honour.

Iachimo, on his arrival in Britain, gained
admittance, and a courteous welcome from Imogen,
as a friend of her husband; but when he began to
make professions of love to her, she repulsed him
with disdain, and he soon found that he could have
no hope of succeeding in his dishonourable design.

The desire Iachimo had to win the wager made
him now have recourse to a stratagem to impose
upon Posthumus, and for this purpose he bribed
some of Imogen's attendants, and was by them
conveyed into her bedchamber, concealed in a large
trunk, where he remained shut up till Imogen was
retired to rest, and had fallen asleep; and then
getting out of the trunk, he examined the chamber
with great attention, and wrote down everything he
saw there, and particularly noticed a mole which
he observed upon Imogen's neck, and then softly
unloosing the bracelet from her arm, which
Posthumus had given to her, he retired into the
chest again; and the next day he set off for Rome
with great expedition, and boasted to Posthumus
that Imogen had given him the bracelet, and
likewise permitted him to pass a night in her
chamber: and in this manner Iachimo told his false
tale: "Her bedchamber," said he, "was hung with
tapestry of silk and silver, the story was the
proud Cleopatra when she met her Anthony, a piece
of work most bravely wrought."

"This is true," said Posthumus; "but this you
might have heard spoken of without seeing."

"Then the chimney," said Iachimo, "is south of
the chamber, and the chimney-piece is Diana
bathing; never saw I figures livelier expressed."

"This is a thing you might have likewise
heard," said Posthumus, "for it is much talked
of."

Iachimo as accurately described the roof of
the chamber; and added: "I had almost forgot her
andirons; they were two winking Cupids made of
silver, each on one foot standing." He then took
out the bracelet, and said: "Know you this jewel,
sir? She gave me this. She took it from her arm.
I see her yet; her pretty action did outsell her
gift, and yet enriched it too. She gave it me,
and said, she prized it once." He last of all
described the mole he had observed upon her neck.

Posthumus, who had heard the whole of this
artful recital in an agony of doubt, now broke out
into the most passionate exclamations against
Imogen. He delivered up the diamond ring to
Iachimo, which he had agreed to forfeit to him, if
he obtained the bracelet from Imogen.

Posthumus then in a jealous rage wrote to
Pisanio, a gentleman of Britain, who was one of
Imogen's attendants, and had long been a faithful
friend to Posthumus; and after telling him what
proof he had of his wife's disloyalty, he desired
Pisanio would take Imogen to Milford-Haven, a
seaport of Wales, and there kill her. And at the
same time he wrote a deceitful letter to Imogen
desiring her to go with Pisanio, for that finding
he could live no longer without seeing her, though
he was forbidden upon pain of death to return to
Britain, he would come to Milford-Haven, at which
place he begged she would meet him. She, good
unsuspecting lady, who loved her husband above all
things, and desired more than her life to see him,
hastened her departure with Pisanio, and the same
night she received the letter she set out.

When their journey was nearly at an end,
Pisanio, who, though faithful to Posthumus, was
not faithful to serve him in an evil deed,
disclosed to Imogen the cruel order he had
received.

Imogen, who, instead of meeting a loving and
beloved husband, found herself doomed by that
husband to suffer death, was afflicted beyond
measure.

Pisanio persuaded her to take comfort, and
wait with patient fortitude for the time when
Posthumus should see and repent his injustice: in
the meantime, as she refused in her distress to
return to her father's court, he advised her to
dress herself in boy's clothes for more security
in travelling; to which device she agreed, and
thought in that disguise she would go over to
Rome, and see her husband, whom, though he had
used her so barbarously, she could not forget to
love.

When Pisanio had provided her with her new
apparel, he left her to her uncertain fortune,
being obliged to return to court; but before he
departed he gave her a phial of cordial, which he
said the queen had given him as a sovereign remedy
in all disorders.

The queen, who hated Pisanio because he was a
friend to Imogen and Posthumus, gave him this
phial, which she supposed contained poison, she
having ordered her physician to give her some
poison, to try its effects (as she said) upon
animals; but the physician, knowing her malicious
disposition, would not trust her with real poison,
but gave her a drug which would do no other
mischief than causing a person to sleep with every
appearance of death for a few hours. This
mixture, which Pisanio thought a choice cordial,
he gave to Imogen, desiring her, if she found
herself ill upon the road, to take it; and so,
with blessings and prayers for her safety and
happy deliverance from her undeserved troubles, he
left her.

Providence strangely directed Imogen's steps
to the dwelling of her two brothers, who had been
stolen away in their infancy. Bellarius, who
stole them away, was a lord in the court of
Cymbeline, and having been falsely accused to the
king of treason, and banished from the court, in
revenge he stole away the two sons of Cymbeline,
and brought them up in a forest, where he lived
concealed in a cave. He stole them through
revenge, but he soon loved them as tenderly as if
they had been his own children, educated them
carefully, and they grew up fine youths, their
princely spirits leading them to bold and daring
actions; and as they subsisted by hunting, they
were active and hardy, and were always pressing
their supposed father to let them seek their
fortune in the wars.

At the cave where these youths dwelt it was
Imogen's fortune to arrive. She had lost her way
in a large forest, through which her road lay to
Milford-Haven (from which she meant to embark for
Rome); and being unable to find any place where
she could purchase food, she was with weariness
and hunger almost dying; for it is not merely
putting on a man's apparel that will enable a
young lady, tenderly brought up, to bear the
fatigue of wandering about lonely forests like a
man. Seeing this cave, she entered, hoping to
find someone within of whom she could procure
food. She found the cave empty, but looking about
she discovered some cold meat, and her hunger was
so pressing, that she could not wait for an
invitation, but sat down and began to eat. "Ah,"
said she, talking to herself, "I see a man's life
is a tedious one; how tired am I! for two nights
together I have made the ground my bed: my
resolution helps me, or I should be sick. When
Pisanio showed me Milford-Haven from the mountain
top, how near it seemed!" Then the thoughts of her
husband and his cruel mandate came across her, and
she said: "My dear Posthumus, thou art a false
one!"

The two brothers of Imogen, who had been
hunting with their reputed father, Bellarius, were
by this time returned home. Bellarius had given
them the names of Polydore and Cadwal, and they
knew no better, but supposed that Bellarius was
their father; but the real names of these princes
were Guiderius and Arviragus.

Bellarius entered the cave first, and seeing
Imogen, stopped them, saying: "Come not in yet; it
eats our victuals, or I should think it was a
fairy."

"What is the matter, sir?" said the young men.
"By Jupiter," said Bellarius again, "there is an
angel in the cave, or if not, an earthly paragon."
So beautiful did Imogen look in her boy's apparel.

She, hearing the sound of voices, came forth
from the cave, and addressed them in these words:
"Good masters, do not harm me; before I entered
your cave, I had thought to have begged or bought
what I have eaten. Indeed I have stolen nothing,
nor would I, though I had found gold strewed on
the floor. Here is money for my meat, which I
would have left on the board when I had made my
meal, and parted with prayers for the provider."
They refused her money with great earnestness. "I
see you are angry with me," said the timid Imogen;
"but, sirs, if you kill me for my fault, know that
I should have died if I had not made it."

"Whither are you bound?" asked Bellarius, "and
what is your name?"

"Fidele is my name," answered Imogen. "I have
a kinsman, who is bound for Italy; he embarked at
Milford-Haven, to whom being going, almost spent
with hunger, I am fallen into this offence."

"Prithee, fair youth," said old Bellarius, "do
not think us churls, nor measure our good minds by
this rude place we live in. You are well
encountered; it is almost night. You shall have
better cheer before you depart, and thanks to stay
and eat it. Boys, bid him welcome."

The gentle youths, her brothers, then welcomed
Imogen to their cave with many kind expressions,
saying they would love her (or, as they said, him)
as a brother; and they entered the cave, where
(they having killed venison when they were
hunting) Imogen delighted them with her neat
housewifery, assisting them in preparing their
supper; for though it is not the custom now for
young women of high birth to understand cookery,
it was then, and Imogen excelled in this useful
art; and, as her brothers prettily expressed it,
Fidele cut their roots in characters, and sauced
their broth, as if Juno had been sick, and Fidele
were her dieter. "And then," said Polydore to his
brother, "how angellike he sings!"

They also remarked to each other, that though
Fidele smiled so sweetly, yet so sad a melancholy
did overcloud his lovely face, as if grief and
patience had together taken possession of him.

For these her gentle qualities (or perhaps it
was their near relationship, though they knew it
not) Imogen (or, as the boys called her, Fidele)
became the doting-piece of her brothers, and she
scarcely less loved them, thinking that but for
the memory of her dear Posthumus, she could live
and die in the cave with these wild forest youths;
and she gladly consented to stay with them, till
she was enough rested from the fatigue of
travelling to pursue her way to Milford-Haven.

When the venison they had taken was all eaten
and they were going out to hunt for more. Fidele
could not accompany them because she was unwell.
Sorrow, no doubt, for her husband's cruel usage,
as well as the fatigue of wandering in the forest,
was the cause of her illness.

They then bid her farewell, and went to their
hunt, praising all the way the noble parts and
graceful demeanour of the youth Fidele.

Imogen was no sooner left alone then she
recollected the cordial Pisanio had given her, and
drank it off, and presently fell into a sound and
deathlike sleep.

When Bellarius and her brothers returned from
hunting, Polydore went first into the cave, and
supposing her asleep, pulled off his heavy shoes,
that he might tread softly and not awake her; so
did true gentleness spring up in the minds of
these princely foresters; but he soon discovered
that she could not be awakened by any noise, and
concluded her to be dead, and Polydore lamented
over her with dear and brotherly regret, as if
they had never from their infancy been parted.

Bellarius also proposed to carry her out into
the forest, and there celebrate her funeral with
songs and solemn dirges, as was then the custom.

Imogen's two brothers then carried her to a
shady covert

Imogen's two brothers then carried her to a
shady covert, and there laying her gently on the
grass, they sang repose to her departed spirit,
and covering her over with leaves and flowers,
Polydore said: "While summer lasts and I live
here, Fidele, I will daily strew thy grave. The
pale primrose, that flower most like thy face; the
blue-bell, like thy clear veins; and the leaf of
eglantine, which is not sweeter than was thy
breath; all these will I strew over thee. Yea,
and the furred moss in winter, when there are no
flowers to cover thy sweet corse."

When they had finished her funeral obsequies
they departed very sorrowful.

Imogen had not been long left alone, when, the
effect of the sleepy drug going off, she awaked,
and easily shaking off the slight covering of
leaves and flowers they had thrown over her, she
arose, and imagining she had been dreaming, she
said: "I thought I was a cavekeeper, and cook to
honest creatures; how came I here covered with
flowers?" Not being able to find her way back to
the cave, and seeing nothing of her new
companions, she concluded it was certainly all a
dream; and once more Imogen set out on her weary
pilgrimage, hoping at last she should find her way
to Milford-Haven, and thence get a passage in some
ship bound for Italy; for all her thoughts were
still with her husband Posthumus, whom she
intended to seek in the disguise of a page.

But great events were happening at this time,
of which Imogen knew nothing; for a war had
suddenly broken out between the Roman emperor
Augustus Caesar and Cymbeline, the king of
Britain; and a Roman army had landed to invade
Britain, and was advanced into the very forest
over which Imogen was journeying. With this army
came Posthumus.

Though Posthumus came over to Britain with the
Roman army, he did not mean to fight on their side
against his own countrymen, but intended to join
the army of Britain, and fight in the cause of his
king who had banished him.

He still believed Imogen false to him; yet the
death of her he had so fondly loved, and by his
own orders too (Pisanio having written him a
letter to say he had obeyed his command, and that
Imogen was dead), sat heavy on his heart, and
therefore he returned to Britain, desiring either
to be slain in battle, or to be put to death by
Cymbeline for returning home from banishment.

Imogen, before she reached Milford-Haven, fell
into the hands of the Roman army; and her presence
and deportment recommending her, she was made a
page to Lucius, the Roman general.

Cymbeline's army now advanced to meet the
enemy, and when they entered this forest, Polydore
and Cadwal joined the king's army. The young men
were eager to engage in acts of valour, though
they little thought they were going to fight for
their own royal father: and old Bellarius went
with them to the battle. He had long since
repented of the injury he had done to Cymbeline in
carrying away his sons; and having been a warrior
in his youth, he gladly joined the army to fight
for the king he had so injured.

And now a great battle commenced between the
two armies, and the Britons would have been
defeated, and Cymbeline himself killed, but for
the extraordinary valour of Posthumus and
Bellarius and the two sons of Cymbeline. They
rescued the king, and saved his life, and so
entirely turned the fortune of the day, that the
Britons gained the victory.

When the battle was over, Posthumus, who had
not found the death he sought for, surrendered
himself up to one of the officers of Cymbeline,
willing to suffer the death which was to be his
punishment if he returned from banishment.

Imogen and the master she served were taken
prisoners, and brought before Cymbeline, as was
also her old enemy Iachimo, who was an officer in
the Roman army; and when these prisoners were
before the king, Posthumus was brought in to
receive his sentence of death; and at this strange
juncture of time, Bellarius with Polydore and
Cadwal were also brought before Cymbeline, to
receive the rewards due to the great services they
had by their valour done for the king. Pisanio,
being one of the king's attendants, was likewise
present.

Therefore there were now standing in the
king's presence (but with very different hopes and
fears) Posthumus and Imogen, with her new master
the Roman general; the faithful servant Pisanio,
and the false friend Iachimo; and likewise the two
lost sons of Cymbeline, with Bellarius, who had
stolen them away.

The Roman general was the first who spoke; the
rest stood silent before the king, though there
was many a beating heart among them.

Imogen saw Posthumus, and knew him, though he
was in the disguise of a peasant; but he did not
know her in her male attire; and she knew Iachimo,
and she saw a ring on his finger which she
perceived to be her own, but she did not know him
as yet to have been the author of all her
troubles: and she stood before her own father a
prisoner of war.

Pisanio knew Imogen, for it was he who had
dressed her in the garb of a boy. "It is my
mistress," thought he; "since she is living, let
the time run on to good or bad." Bellarius knew
her too, and softly said to Cadwal: "Is not this
boy revived from
death?""One sand," replied
Cadwal, "does not more resemble another than that
sweet rosy lad is like the dead
Fidele.""The same
dead thing alive," said Polydore. "Peace, peace,"
said Bellarius; "if it were he, I am sure he would
have spoken to us." "But we saw him dead," again
whispered Polydore. "Be silent," replied
Bellarius.

Posthumus waited in silence to hear the
welcome sentence of his own death; and he resolved
not to disclose to the king that he had saved his
life in the battle, lest that should move
Cymbeline to pardon him.

Lucius, the Roman general, who had taken
Imogen under his protection as his page, was the
first (as has been before said) who spoke to the
king. He was a man of high courage and noble
dignity, and this was his speech to the king:

"I hear you take no ransom for your prisoners,
but doom them all to death: I am a Roman. and
with a Roman heart will suffer death. But there
is one thing for which I would entreat." Then
bringing Imogen before the king, he said: "This
boy is a Briton born. Let him be ransomed. He is
my page. Never master had a page so kind, so
duteous, so diligent on all occasions, so true, so
nurse-like. He hath done no Briton wrong, though
he hath served a Roman. Save him, if you spare no
one beside."

Cymbeline looked earnestly on his daughter
Imogen. He knew her not in that disguise; but it
seemed that all-powerful Nature spake in his
heart, for he said: "I have surely seen him, his
face appears familiar to me. I know not why or
wherefore I say, Live, boy; but I give you your
life, and ask of me what boon you will, and I will
grant it you. Yea, even though it be the life of
the noblest prisoner I have."

"I humbly thank your highness," said Imogen.

What was then called granting a boon was the
same as a promise to give any one thing, whatever
it might be, that the person on whom that favour
was conferred chose to ask for. They all were
attentive to hear what thing the page would ask
for; and Lucius her master said to her: "I do not
beg my life, good lad, but I know that is what you
will ask for.""No, no, alas!" said Imogen, "I
have other work in hand, good master; your life I
cannot ask for."

This seeming want of gratitude in the boy
astonished the Roman general.

Imogen then, fixing her eye on Iachimo,
demanded no other boon than this: that Iachimo
should be made to confess whence he had the ring
he wore on his finger.

Cymbeline granted her this boon, and
threatened Iachimo with the torture if he did not
confess how he came by the diamond ring on his
finger.

Iachimo then made a full acknowledgment of all
his villany, telling, as has been before related,
the whole story of his wager with Posthumus, and
how he had succeeded in imposing upon his
credulity.

What Posthumus felt at hearing this proof of
the innocence of his lady cannot be expressed. He
instantly came forward, and confessed to Cymbeline
the cruel sentence which he had enjoined Pisanio
to execute upon the princess; exclaiming wildly:
"O Imogen, my queen, my life, my wife! O Imogen,
Imogen, Imogen!"

Imogen could not see her beloved husband in
this distress without discovering herself, to the
unutterable joy of Posthumus, who was thus
relieved from a weight of guilt and woe, and
restored to the good graces of the dear lady he
had so cruelly treated.

Cymbeline, almost as much overwhelmed as he
with joy, at finding his lost daughter so
strangely recovered, received her to her former
place in his fatherly affection, and not only gave
her husband Posthumus his life, but consented to
acknowledge him for his son-in-law.

Bellarius chose this time of joy and
reconciliation to make his confession. He
presented Polydore and Cadwal to the king, telling
him they were his two lost sons, Guiderius and
Arviragus.

Cymbeline forgave old Bellarius; for who could
think of punishments at a season of such universal
happiness? To find his daughter living, and his
lost sons in the persons of his young deliverers,
that he had seen so bravely fight in his defence,
was unlooked-for joy indeed!

Imogen was now at leisure to perform good
services for her late master, the Roman general
Lucius, whose life the king her father readily
granted at her request; and by the mediation of
the same Lucius a peace was concluded between the
Romans and the Britons, which was kept inviolate
many years.

How Cymbeline's wicked queen, through despair
of bringing her projects to pass, and touched with
remorse of conscience, sickened and died, having
first lived to see her foolish son Cloten slain in
a quarrel which he had provoked, are events too
tragical to interrupt this happy conclusion by
more than merely touching upon. It is sufficient
that all were made happy who were deserving; and
even the treacherous Iachimo, in consideration of
his villainy having missed its final aim, was
dismissed without punishment.